Chapter 25
Dominic glanced at Kyrie, limp in his arms, then continued speaking.
“Since the condition wasn’t met, that makes it a clear breach of contract.”
The bandits shouted in frustration upon hearing that.
“H-Hey, but…!”
“More than half of those injuries on that woman weren’t even caused by us!”
They weren’t wrong.
Most of Kyrie’s wounds likely didn’t come from the carriage incident but had been inflicted at the ducal estate.
‘Those aren’t injuries you get in such a short span of time.’
But that didn’t mean it would be easy to rush into the duke’s residence and return the wounds in kind.
Besides, it wasn’t as if these men had left her unscathed. She had nearly been thrown off and trampled under a horse.
Dominic replied evenly.
“If you have a complaint, settle it by coming at me.”
Even though he was surrounded by dozens of bandits, Dominic spoke without the slightest concern.
A few of the men visibly paled at his nonchalance. The bandits who had voiced their objections flushed red and blue in turn.
“Whoever you are, we were willing to let it slide since the deposit was generous!”
“If you’re so eager to die, then die along with that woman!”
Dominic smiled.
Ever since he had seen the state Kyrie was in, the heat that had been rampaging inside him could be more appropriately vented on these men, rather than her.
“Pardon me again, then.”
He pulled Kyrie closer against him and unfastened his belt, tying her to himself. It would be troublesome if she fell off during the fight.
The heavy scent of blood wafted from Kyrie. When he glanced down at her, scratches still marked various places on her body, making it hard to tell whether the blood he smelled was from the bandits he had just cut down, or from some severe wound on her own body. A sigh slipped from Dominic’s lips.
“Once this is over, I’ll need to treat you quickly, Lady.”
“Die!”
As the bandits charged, Dominic’s crooked smile deepened. His sword sliced sharply through the air.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
The first to notice something strange was the coachman’s family.
“He didn’t return?”
Veron, receiving the servants’ reports as the Young Duke, furrowed his brow. It was because the head butler of the estate had approached him with an uneasy expression.
“Yes. The coachman who had departed for Flobel… has yet to return.”
“……”
“His family came to me, pleading for answers, which is why I’ve brought the matter to your attention.”
The expression of Johannsen, who had been sitting in a corner of the Young Duke’s office, subtly changed. Veron tapped his fingertips against the rosewood desk.
“How long does it take to get to Flobel?”
“Even generously estimated, it shouldn’t take more than a week.”
“Any word from the Mother Superior?”
Now that he thought of it, they were supposed to be contacted once Kyrie arrived there. Surely among the many letters he’d left unopened over the past few weeks due to being busy, one might have been from Flobel.
“There’s been none.”
At the curt response, Johannsen’s face turned even paler. Seeing that, Veron didn’t question him directly. Instead, he thought of the pendant in his drawer.
The pendant that had fallen from Kyrie’s pocket. The same pendant their stepmother had worn on her body when she died.
‘I thought it seemed familiar.’
The reason he’d felt deja vu at the funeral finally tugged at the edge of his mind.
It had been their mother’s possession.
‘You’re both going to have a younger sibling.’
He suddenly remembered their mother’s voice, smiling as she stroked that very pendant. How she had made both him and Johannsen press their ears to her belly. How that tiny heartbeat had thumped from within.
‘We don’t know if it’ll be a boy or a girl yet.’
‘But I have a feeling it’ll be a girl.’
‘……’
‘Will you be a good big brother?’
It was a memory he had buried deep after their mother’s death.
‘A good brother…’
Now it was a completely meaningless phrase.
Still, Veron had at least intended to ensure Kyrie reached Flobel safely. That much he had felt he should do, so that when the memories returned later, the unease in his chest might be eased a little.
‘…A final sense of duty?’
But the emotion was far too delicate to be called duty. Too anxious to be explained away as responsibility.
Only later did he recognize it for what it was: guilt.
Veron swallowed down a bitter laugh that nearly rose.
The problem was, it wasn’t baseless guilt.
Since Elise had come to the estate, Veron had turned a blind eye to the things Johannsen had done. How he tormented Elise and pinned it all on Kyrie. Sometimes, he had even taken part in it.
Still, he had considered Kyrie to be a child who deserved it.
The girl who had stolen their mother away in an instant. The girl who had been born by devouring their mother. If that were true, then wasn’t such treatment natural?
Whenever Kyrie looked at him with those clear eyes, as if asking what she had done wrong, the resentment only deepened. Her eyes, bright to a fault, irritated him.
We lost our mother because of you.
We had to watch a woman who looked just like her walk through this house, pretending to be her.
So why was it that you never seemed to shrink away or bow your head?
‘If you had… would something have been different?’
It was too late to know. And too belated a question.
But the fact that the carriage to Flobel had disappeared kept making Veron’s heart pound with dread.
It felt like something irreversible had happened. Like the moment when someone knows they’re going to fall, and still can’t stop themselves from falling.
“I’ll check it myself, brother.”
“You will?”
Johannsen’s face, as he addressed him, had turned completely pale, as if his throat were being strangled.
“You’re busy with estate matters, aren’t you? I’ll… check the road to the convent.”
But his hand trembled faintly as he spoke. His eyes darted nervously, clearly trying to hide something.
Seeing that, Veron’s ominous premonition flared like a spark in a dry field at harvest, catching fire instantly.
“No. I’ll go myself.”
“But it’ll take days…”
“Butler, are there any urgent matters scheduled?”
“None, sir.”
“Then I can spare a week, can’t I.”
“I’ll go with you, brother. If it’s a week, I can free up time too.”
“Let’s finish this quickly.”
In less than a day, they discovered the shattered carriage, the coachman’s burnt body, the corpses of bandits…
And the manacles found among the remaining ashes.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Splash.
Kyrie faintly caught the sound of water in her ears.
It came weakly through her still-heavy consciousness, a sound as soft as falling droplets.
It reminded her of the fountain she had waited beside for Lexion… or of the rain inside her mother’s long-abandoned greenhouse, where the structure had crumbled from neglect.
The water, streaming down broken pillars and pooling below. A sound cold and damp enough to bite the skin.
But this time, unlike then, her whole body felt as if it were floating, warm and languid.
The scent of wet wood filled her nose.
Then something rested gently atop her head. Fingers, cracked and rough.
“Nnh…”
She groaned softly, and the fingers moved slowly through her hair, massaging her scalp.
‘This…’
She had felt something like this long, long ago.
Back when her nursemaid had still been with her. When she would place little Kyrie in warm water and gently wash her hair with care.
‘But…’
There was no one left who would do that for her anymore. Then again, someone touched her hair.
Though her stiff, aching body tried to turn, the other person was faster.
“Shh.”
The familiar voice brought a strange sense of unreality.
“Lucky, aren’t you, Lady. You weren’t seriously hurt.”
“……”
“Still… bathing you like this.”
“……”
“It’s the kind of thing that’d make a passing dog laugh.”
Soon, she felt something like a soft sponge rubbing gently over the gown she wore.
“You should gain some weight.”
His fingers pressed lightly on her lower abdomen.
“To have a child.”
“……”
“You need to be healthy.”
‘A child…’
The child she had promised to bear for the Grand Duke. The child she never truly intended to have.
Only then did she fully register that she was in the Grand Duke’s arms. That he still intended to marry her.
In her haze, Kyrie chose to think about the wedding, rather than a child that wouldn’t exist.
‘What would the wedding be like.’
She couldn’t clearly picture herself in a wedding dress. But she could see vividly, him standing somewhere, dressed in white uniform, bathed in light.
If not for the Emperor’s interference, they would have already been married.
He was, by all measures, a perfect groom. Without doubt, the image of him as a bridegroom would be striking, almost like a painting.
And…
‘It might end up being a very long wedding.’
One that mocked everyone. One that paraded their union for all to see.
She didn’t care either way.
As long as the Grand Duke led her down the aisle.
As long as he slipped a ring onto her finger and brought her to the threshold of freedom….
‘If he’ll do that… anything is fine.’
Her thoughts trailed off in fragmented pieces.
Kyrie slowly drifted back into sleep.
